I Didn't Say It

"I told you so" never crossed my lips. I thought it. Thought it hard enough that my brain hurt. But I never said it.

We'd been planning a trip to Quartzite for about a month. It had to be this past weekend because that's when our friends were going. I said "it's going to rain." Dick said "it won't rain." I said "it's all outdoors." He said "don't worry."

It rained. Buckets. We were dressed for it, so the weather didn't really bother us. But . . . most of the vendors decided to take a weather-day. In sections that held hundreds of stalls, only 3 or 4 were open. And of course none of them had the things I was interested in, like spinning wheels or antique crochet hooks or anything besides rocks and minerals.

We'd planned to stay Sunday night and come home on Monday, but instead started the homeward trek about 3 Sunday afternoon, less than 24 hours after we'd arrived. I did find a carpet to go under my loom and Dick got some rocks for carving. But we were hoping for so much more.